


More Full Of Weeping.

by Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels)



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Community: contrelamontre, Podfic Available, Quotes William Butler Yeats, The Gathering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-17
Updated: 2008-04-17
Packaged: 2017-10-03 00:24:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are no victories during the Gathering, only survival.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Full Of Weeping.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the contrelamontre thirty-five-minute missing challenge.
> 
> * * *
> 
> _Come away, O human child  
> To the waters and the wild  
> With a faery, hand in hand,  
> For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand._   
> -The Stolen Child by William Butler Yeats.

They came on a Saturday.

The car was small and dark, splattered with mud, and the license plate was conveniently covered. The men inside were somber. Both wore suits covered with long coats. The taller one had a clean bandage wrapped around his left hand.

She was waiting for them at the door.

"Irene Smith?" The one in brown asked. He didn't wait for an answer. "We're here to see John."

"He's not here," she said. "Come back later."

"I'm sorry," said the other. "We can't."

"This is important. We can keep him safe." But he wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Let us help."

She shut the door in their faces, and grabbed the bags she'd already packed. Then she heard their car speeding across the gravel and ran to the window in time to see John waving goodbye.

\--

_"They won't kill the children," Joe had said. "Not even headhunters would kill the children."_

_But Joe was dead, shot at the safe house, and the Watchers, too, five years now. They had sounded the alarm, but too late._

\--

"We're taking you to your real parents," Connor told him. "But we have to find them first. So you can stay with me and Adam, okay? We'll let you have chocolate milk." Then, to Adam, "do kids still like chocolate milk?"

Adam stared at the road. Occasionally, he would make a very sharp turn to the left and drive back the way they came. He liked dirt roads, John thought.

John could feel them in his head, but that was okay. That wasn't scary. He was used to it. You got used to a lot of weird things when you'd been dead for three years and you were only eight.

"When can I see mom again?"

"I have no idea," Adam replied, the first thing he had said since he introduced himself, and Connor punched him in the shoulder.

"Leave him some hope," he ordered, and John sunk down low in the seat.

 

\--

It was the third safe house of the year and it was only April. Methos didn't have high hopes for this one. Duncan was scouting somewhere in Australia, but his calls were getting more and more infrequent and he was sounding more and more lost.

"We're treading water," Methos warned Connor that night. "And we're miles from the shore."

"You really need to cheer up," Connor said, then took him to bed. "Take comfort where you can, in a war."

"We're only fighting ourselves," Methos said as Connor's hands explored his body.

"Yes, but we're winning."

 

\--

_"We'll get you out of here," was the last thing Methos heard before Amanda took off the headset to meet the challenge._

_The children arrived safely. They waited two days for Amanda, longer than they should have. It took both of them to convince Duncan not to run after her challenger. They couldn't afford to take the risk now._

\--

"Here's one." The older kids had taken to looking through adoption records for anomalies. "Should we check her out?"

Connor and Methos went to find her, but she wasn't there, and her parents had been shot through the forehead.

"We can't save them all," Methos reminded Connor, thrusting so hard into him that they both screamed. "Not even us." Connor bit his hand, teeth breaking skin, and the pain was enough, just enough, to give them permission to cry.

\--

"I am Connor MacLeod." Connor sheathed his sword and knelt down in preparation for the Quickening that was coming. "And I am so sorry."

"Come on," Methos told the kids. "Into the bus. You don't want to see this."

"We could save them all," Connor whispered as Methos helped him up, later. "But who will save us from ourselves?"

"No easy answers," Methos reminded him.

Duncan called that night. There was nothing there. Nothing at all. Only hunters and more hunters and dead immortals and bodies in rivers and the end of the world.

"Come home, Duncan," Connor said. "Come home. We can fix this."

Somehow.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [More Full Of Weeping [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/367726) by [tinypinkmouse_podfic (tinypinkmouse)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinypinkmouse/pseuds/tinypinkmouse_podfic)




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